


The Alpha Dave Diaries

by danilmao



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Child Neglect, Clowns, Divorce, Divorce fever, Drugs, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of graphic images, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Substance Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danilmao/pseuds/danilmao
Summary: i guess i have to eventually get started and not drown myself in a list of tangents and deflections of what i actually plan to talk about. which isnt anything at the moment. my publicist said this would be good for the ratings and promised me that i wouldnt have to do interviews for the next couple months and you know i said yes in a heartbeat. no offense, fuck that. all offense to you interviewers but you can kiss my ass. im tired of the settle down question. or when im going to have a kid, or if dirk is my actual kid or some kid i stole from a different universe, blah blah blahim literally just vibing.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A dumbass writes an autobiography to get out of doing interviews.
> 
> Enjoy.

i was cornered into writing a book about my life and i guess im going to force myself to do it despite it being one of the most dickish and self absorbent things anyone can ever do in their life. but then again, i am a strider. its kind of in my blood to be full of myself but not at the same time. like being 6’10 but having a squeaky ass voice. or taking over the world as an evil mastermind but only caring about poor people.  
  
honestly that doesnt sound like a bad script.  
  
  
ill sleep on it.  
  
i guess i have to eventually get started and not drown myself in a list of tangents and deflections of what i actually plan to talk about. which isnt anything at the moment. my publicist said this would be good for the ratings and promised me that i wouldnt have to do interviews for the next couple months and you know i said yes in a heartbeat. no offense, fuck that. all offense to you interviewers but you can kiss my ass. im tired of the settle down question. or when im going to have a kid, or if dirk is my actual kid or some kid i stole from a different universe, blah blah blah  
  
im literally just vibing.  
  
  
  
of course dirk is a kid i stole from a different universe. i have the power and money to buy a big ass spaceship and break the time-space continuum and travel to another universe just to take a kid despite this universe having a billion kids who need a home. i know hes weird and has whatever heat damaged shit going on with his hair but hes from this universe im pretty sure. unless he got switched out when he was a baby by some fucking aliens, hes flesh and blood for the most part.  
  
im not going to get into how were related because frankly that is none of anyones fucking business but thats my kid and i love him despite me missing his high school graduation because i make nothing but terrible decisions on sundays.  
  
i dont know whats up with sundays and why the worst things in the entire world happen to me. fucking, got scarred for life by some fucking clowns. quick sidebar but what the FUCK is up with clowns, theyre so fucking ugly, theyre always smiling, got that ugly ass pasty ass white ass face paint, that shit is fucking ugly. its not joyful and honestly it might be scarring to kids like what kid looks at a clown and is like “this shit is fucking awesome” like no one does that. this isnt the 90s anymore where you can have a clown themed birthday party for you little bucko of a 5 year old.   
  
honestly i go to enough clowned theme parties every weekend. you hollywood fucks are nothing but a bunch of jokes.  
  
i should probably not talk too much about them.  
  
actually i dont care lol.  
  
i ran for senator last year, and i damn near won. i technically did win but my life got too hectic because one sunday afternoon i decided it was a good idea to take three xans and write three scripts and get them approved and budgeted in the same day.  
  
i do things to myself and i wonder why my life is so goddamn awful all the time.  
  
ive come to the conclusion that i punish myself by overworking. sort of like self harm but not self harm because the only things who are being harmed are my ego and possibly my own physical health but thats besides the point.  
  
i overwork myself in attempt to hide from who i really am.  
  
anyways, the worst things happen to me on sundays. like that one time i thought it was a good idea to go to church. which, no disrespect to you religious people. i believe in something, i dont know if its god or whatever high being. but theres something out there keeping me from dying even though i probably shouldve been dead by 25.   
  
i was in church, because i was feeling holy. thats a lie, i needed to study for a script i was writing. everyones favorite dumbass sweet bro takes down a mega church that is threatening to take over the us government.  
  
which sounds too close to fiction, but that’s for another day.  
  
i wanted to feel the true essence of a church and how it felt to be in one since i havent been in a church willingly since i was like baptized i think. or maybe it was to take a picture with some church guy dressed up as santa for christmas cards.   
  
church wasnt that bad. people stared at me, people obviously knew who i was because they tried their best to pretend like they didnt. which is the most annoying thing in the fucking world like just come out and say youre a fan of my movies and my shows and my stupid ass webcomic ive been writing since i was 15. just tell me you appreciate my political work and my hatred towards the true evils of the world: clowns and rich people.   
  
that shit? i appreciate it. despite my plethora of credits, its nice to hear appreciation of them despite most of my shit being ironic and stupid jokes that were never meant to be taken seriously but i guess comedy isnt dead yet.  
  
like i said, church wasnt that bad. or until the end where the pastor, priest thingy decided to welcome all the new members or the people coming to the church for the first time. and of course everyone in a twenty mile radius decided to point at me. or stare. i pretty fucking sure they were doing both. pointing and staring for me to get my ass up there and say a few words about how im saved and how much i love big homie up in the sky. which, is fucked up? why would anyone want attention at church aint you supposed to pray and get free bagels afterwards or something. maybe say hi to the one person you were avoiding for the past couple months because every time you see them theyre talking about something about their kids accomplishments or how much they hate their SO because of x, y and z. like i dont fucking care that your daughter just got into dance school and you hate your husband so much you want to divorce him but you dont want drama in the church, im not your fucking therapist. go get one, ill even pay for it.  
  
some people really have no filter when it comes to oversharing.  
  
i was in the middle of shaking hands with the god leader man when all of a fucking sudden, this lady starts fucking screaming and running up to me looking like i just killed her kids in front of her.  
  
im used to people being mad at me. i mean, ive been writing a webcomic since i was 15, in the age where you could say anything on the internet, no matter how racist, ableist, sexist or whatever other ist it is, or one of the isms.   
  
theres a lot of them now a days.  
  
in the age of pre-social justice days. before i realized how fucking awful my shit was and how harmful and disgustingly vile and blah blah blah whatever i said in my apology tweets. anyways, people were mad. and are still mad. because they dont believe that people have the capability to change as a person and grow and be not, whatever the fuck 15 year old me was going through.  
  
to be fair, i was 15, on 4chan and myspace and surrounded by nothing but white people who thought the funniest thing in the world was t-bagging someone in halo or cod.  
  
thank fucking god that shit is over and i talk to as few white people as possible. its tough, the industry really is 80% white.  
  
we live in a society.  
  
this lady came running up to me, karen face on. red as a fucking tomato, like i just called her casserole disgusting. yelling at me that i have no right to be in church because of how corrupt i am. how im going to hell because of the nature of my movies. and the worst part: how i corrupted her kids and now theyre doing drugs now.   
  
first of all how is that my problem like sure i smoke blunts whenever im on ig live or on the red carpet but who gives a fuck im not encouraging my fans or whoever the fuck watches my shit to smoke blunts.  
  
ben stiller isnt on camera smoking bl-.  
  
yeah he is.  
  
wait, maybe this shit is my fault.  
  
either way, she had no right to start a flash mob and get my ass beat by church security over false claims.   
  
the day david strider ended up in the fucking hospital because he got his ass beat in the place of god.  
  
i feel like i should sue someone for that. that put a major roadblock in my career because im not allowed in most churches anymore. they really put a national church ban on thee david strider because some lady accused me of getting her kids hooked on drugs. and it wasnt even the heavy shit it was just weed and sometimes a xan. you know, typically high school shit.  
  
even if my movies did influence your kids to do drugs, thats on YOU for being a bad mom and not supervising them enough. its not like dirk does drugs that i know of outside of weed. sure he may have some serious mental issues but nothing like some therapy and a hug cant fix.  
  
honestly, therapy is a such a beautiful thing. like an actual therapist, not your best friend forcing you to talk about trauma thats been bothering you since you were 8 over a line of coke and empty shot glasses (no disrespect to rosalin, shes a real one). like that good therapy that you have to pay an arm and a leg to go to.  
  
god therapy is so expensive, fucking sucks. shouldnt have to pay a year worths of salary to get the help you need. this world is fucked up as it is already with fucking clowns running around, one even in office. evil forces trying to take the world down. my movies not coming out in a 3 month period. the world is tough out there.  
  
i think its time to eat the rich or at least make sure theyre like not living.  
  
electric chair as the kids would say. do they even still say that anymore or did the kids make a new meme for telling someone to die or suffer? stepping on a lego was pretty good, sad that one died out because it still gives me a good ol chuckle fuckle.  
  
i guess the consensus of this book or memoir or autobiography is that my life is pretty fucking crazy and i find myself getting my shit kicked in, metaphorically or physically, way too often. it’s not like i don’t deserve it. i talk more shit than a high school cheerleader during homecoming week. i openly talk shit, like not even trying to hide it. i have over 300k tweets of me name dropping people in the industry, in politics and even your everyday joe. im well aware these people can beat my ass for this and they have tried, and some have succeeded. not most, some. there are a few videos on worldstar of a certain someone getting the shit kicked out of them, but i digress.  
  
i am a man of integrity and skill. a man of many talents and a man of fortune that belongs majority to the poor.  
  
and this is my dumbass autobiography. 

  
  
  



	2. Trauma dumping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i guess every autobiography starts when you were born. and i really want say fuck that, and skip to when i died, in a typical strider ‘going against the rules’ fashion, but honestly thinking about my own mortality too long causes me to have panic attacks and i dont need rosalin to come over right now. she would kill me, its past her 3 am bedtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This man has a lot of trauma.

i guess every autobiography starts when you were born. and i really want say fuck that, and skip to when i died, in a typical strider ‘going against the rules’ fashion, but honestly thinking about my own mortality too long causes me to have panic attacks and i dont need rosalin to come over right now. she would kill me, its past her 3 am bedtime.  
  
i guess i do my best work when i cant sleep due to trauma induced insomnia or when im off a bar. same difference.  
  
but i guess i have to actually start talking about myself and not let it be another case of me rambling about getting my ass beat by church security, which is very… not very churchy. i know big man in the sky is probably fucking pissed that they didnt honor thy neighbor or whatever that one guy wrote on the stone block shit.  
  
do you ever think about the biblical times and how fucked they were. people were getting swarmed by flies and dying. and writing on stone slabs with picks and shit. they built a tower so fucking high just to see the man in the sky and he was like no what the fuck you cant do that thats not allowed and killed them all. people were living up until like 700 which aint make no fucking sense since they didnt even bathe. bitches are 768 and do not use deodorant. fucking disgusting and absoulute madness love.  
  
as you can probably tell, i just got back from london earlier today. i had to go to some fucking.  
  
honestly i dont even know what they event was.  
  
i got put in a ugly ass black suit, and had to wear a normal tie. and i guess i met some royalty today? i really couldnt give more of a shit about colonizers and their royal families. even though it would be kick ass to be a king of something. maybe i should write a script about being the king to some kingdom and live out my wildest dreams.  
  
the best part of being a director is being able to create and write shit that you want to see. and i think me and my fans would like to see me with a big ass crown on my head. maybe even the Biggie crown, have that shit hanging off my head or whatever cool poses he does. or did. rip to him but im different.  
  
the more that i think about it, the more than i realize i really am one of a kind. like one of a fucking kind. there is no one else like me and i guess thats what makes me, me. my mom used to tell me i would be the death of myself. still not sure what that means to this day, but i think im cooling for now. right?  
  
right?  
  
i guess the root to all my trauma is my parents and my upbringing. so i guess that’s where i have to start.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
i grew up sometime in the 80s. honestly i wish i knew for sure because im still not convinced that my birth certificate is real. i wasn’t born in a hospital so i didnt get one until a few months after i was born because my parents were too lazy or didnt care enough to get me one. i was an accident child, even though the people who are the greatest in life are typically accident children. we werent meant to be on this earth but look at us, we won. or at least i think i won.  
  
well.  
  
honestly did i win because my puerto-rican dad and black mother did not want me until they realized they couldnt give me to my grandparents for the rest of my life because my puerto-rican grandmother was not having it on thursday nights after 7 because it was poker time. and my black grandparents got sick of me fucking around in church and sat my parents down and forced them to be parents. and i knew what was happening because no matter how many action figures you put in my face, i still knew that i wasnt wanted. apparently my parents were on the verge of breaking up until bam, my dumbass younger brother was born.  
  
there really wasnt any tension between me and baby brother. because in the end of the day, he is a baby. and what the fuck do i look like getting mad at a baby. besides, hes always been my baby brother. i started taking care of him at a young age until my parents realized that it isnt fair to traumatize both of their kids. and then they sort just paid all attention to him and ignored me from age 7 to when i got my webcomic picked up by some major corp when i was 18 and started bringing more money in than the both of them combined.  
  
but i guess i should really start when i was born.  
  
i was born outside a walgreens sometime in the 80s. it was the dead of winter in texas. it wasn’t snowing but it was cold enough to not stay outside for that long, so like. in the 60s (F). my mother had been in the car waiting for my dad to come back with her pregnancy craving snacks when all of a sudden her water broke. thankfully there was a midwife in the walgreens so i didnt get fucked over by my dad trying to deliver a baby and my mother nearly killing him in the process.  
  
i was a chill baby. never really cried much. theres a lot of pictures of me wearing my mothers sunglasses and just chilling. i always had them on, at the park, while watching tv or my grandparents cook. even when i went to sleep i managed to have them on. most babies had a stuffed animal or a pacifier that kept them sane and loaded. i had a pair of sunglasses my mother probably stole from the gas station.  
  
my earliest memories revolve around my grandparents. they were there the first time i stood up by myself. they were there when i started walking. they were there with me in the hospital after my parents forgot i existed and left me home alone and i cried so much i passed out for nearly a day. it got to the point where i was never happy around my parents. i never talked to them and sometimes even refused to eat around them. i always talked to my black grandmother. called her nama because i didnt realize it was grandma and not grama until i was 6.  
  
nama and me clicked from the day i was born. she was the first person i had a human connection to from what i could remember. i remember how gentle she was with me and how she taught me right from wrong. how she always encouraged me and listened to me ramble.  
  
shes probably the reason why i talk so much now. she never told me to shut up.  
  
she knew when i started talking, there was no stopping me. it was just in my blood to talk up a storm. she always told me her father never knew how to shut the fuck up and that’s what led him to his death. despite that, she encouraged me to keep talking. because she knew that the things i had to say would change the world one day.  
  
funny enough, she was right.  
  
living in houston meant everything was far away, but close at the same time. nama lived across a field from us and i would always make the 20 minute walk there no matter what. looking back, it probably wasn’t safe for a 6 year old me to be walking in the middle of the night in the height of kidnapping and child abductions. on top of the fact that i lived in fucking texas.  
  
nama was there when my brother was born. she was there when i needed to talk to someone about my 6 year old feelings. whenever i cried about it not being fair that my parents dont love me and i have to take care of my younger brother all the time. she was there when i first started going to school and struggled because i couldnt focus.  
  
back then, adhd wasnt really something that someone could have. sure it was more common in kids to have it. but we were poor. and my parents couldnt afford to get me checked out to see what the fuck was wrong with me and why i couldnt shut the fuck up. but nama knew. she always knew the things about me i couldnt figure out. thinking back, she knew i was bisexual or whatever fucking label defines me even before i started having serious interest in people. she always knew.  
  
one time i was really struggling reading for a class and she sat me down and made me read my assigned reading out loud until i could remember what i read. she did it often, offering me my favorite snacks and candy if i could get through it. she was never mean to me, never made me feel bad about the things i cared about. she watched cartoons with me and taught me how to draw the things i saw on TV.  
  
i knew my family had a thing for creatives. nama published multiple childrens books by the time i was 10. my mother was a poet in college, who met my dad who was one of the creators of modern day fantasy football. my dads grandfather drew war propaganda posters back during wwii. it made sense that i would inherit the creative bone somewhere.  
  
thinking back to it, sweet bro and hella jeff started from nama. one of the recurring characters in her books was so fucking insane, i thought he was the coolest motherfucker in the world. i studied him, i drew him, i even wrote short stories about the shit he did. i took my grandmothers oc and made it into a multi-billion dollar franchise.  
  
i wish she was still alive for me to thank her. she died a few weeks before i landed my deal. but she always encouraged me. she read every single one of my webcomic updates no matter how raunchy it was. she pushed me to go further with my creative strides because she knew i could create something that would change the world.  
  
honestly, she was right. and i wish she could see where i am now.  
  
enough being serious i guess that shit is wack as fuck, aint no sad boy hours over here.  
  
...  
  
i guess i never talked about my younger brother.  
  
i never resented him. i always saw him as someone who i had to take care of and love and cherish. i gave him the love that my parents didnt give me. he was my best friend growing up. and to no surprise, despite being threeish years younger than me, he quickly out grew me and looked more like the older brother than me. but i still took care of him and he took care of me.  
  
we both quickly learned that our parents werent real parents and we had to do a lot of our upbringing on our own. and we did. and to be fucking honest, we matured too quickly.  
  
we were looking at porn and other fucked up shit on the internet too early. we both made our first 4chan accounts when we were in elementary school. seeing emotionally scarring things too damn young. i really had no right seeing a dead body at 12.  
  
i guess majority of my trauma does come from internet culture and how i wasnt emotionally ready to see any of it. but my parents did have a big part to do with it.  
  
my father wasnt distant but he didnt know how to be a father *laugh track*. he tried his best, ill give him that. but i guess generational curses of distant and absent fathers really does have a shitty affect on you.  
  
my mother was...my mother. she didnt take a lot of the things i did seriously until she realized i was making money from it. which seems to be the case with a lot of ethnic parents. and to be fair, it was the beginning of the internet and she didnt actually believe i was talking to people online until the news found out about it. and then she tried to ban me from the internet but by that time, i had a bike and a library card and nothing could really stop me.  
  
she always told me what i was doing with my life wouldnt take me anywhere. probably trauma talking since my father somewhat forced her to stop doing poetry and actually take her time in college seriously. she didnt realize that you could have a career doing things that you love.  
  
it wasnt like i was a lonely kid. i had a ton of friends. i was kind of a jock in high school, star basketball player with my brother because we were both stupidly fucking tall. i had a shitload of friends, dated a shitload of people and did not have a shitload of sex because i had intimacy issues of my own but that’s for another time.  
  
met some great people while still maintaining the status quo and the clout cloud i had online. i guess i had a pretty standard life until nama passed away.  
  
she was old, it was bound to happen. but it felt like a part of me had been ripped away and thrown into the steamiest pile of hot flaming shit. it was my first reminder that people can and will die sometime in your life. it gave me the worst existential crisis ive had in my life and to this day, nearly 20 years later. im not sure if ive recovered.  
  
nama’s death pushed me into a depression i never thought existed. i was pretty much mentally sound outside of trauma, slight abandonment issues and PTSD from the terrors of the internet and the shit my parents put me through. i had quit my webcomic, rejected my scholarship to play basketball at my dream school. put all my scripts in a box and was ready to burn that shit up, until i got a phone call.  
  
it was kind of like she was looking out for me, wherever she ended up.  
  
that phone called kick started my career. it bought the rights to my webcomic (a dumbass thing i did and just recently got the rights back). it brought money into a home that was about to be sold to the bank because of the lack of. it helped my family and the community around us prosper and change into what it is now.  
  
it started my career and turned a new page in my life.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
i know i said i would stop getting all sappy and shit but it just sort of happened. i guess thats the last time you get some soft shit out of me. well, until i talk about roaslin.  
  
did i even mention her at all?  
  
shit.  
  
maybe thatll be the next chapter of whatever the fuck im going to call this. 


	3. Best pal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my relationship status is forever unknown to the public (and myself sometimes because i was at the grocery store and saw that i was dating megan foxx because we went out for sushi (god i wish that were true)) for majority of my life. but the one thing that i know for sure is that rosalin lalonde is not my fucking girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sorry for this one.

my relationship status is forever unknown to the public (and myself sometimes because i was at the grocery store and saw that i was dating megan foxx because we went out for sushi (god i wish that were true)) for majority of my life. but the one thing that i know for sure is that rosalin lalonde is not my fucking girlfriend.  
  
or my wife, or im her beard? shes my beard???? i dont know how that shit works or whatever queer term you guys like to use to dictate my life. on that note, why does everything think im a closested trans woman?????????????? i hope i dont lose any woke points here or sound like a male feminist but im literally just chillin in my masculinity and sometimes lack of.  
  
im just vibing.  
  
do you think if i say im just vibing in every chapter of this itll become a meme and something people yell at me whenever they see my in public because if so i should fucking stop because i already get yelled at so fucking much in public i just need a break. i was at the fucking grocery store yesterday and i got yelled at by some kid because i didnt know his fanblog of me on tumblr like who the fuck even goes on tumblr anymore its not 2014. get on twitter where the real cool kids are at and where i still havent been suspended. crazy how tumblr suspended my account because i made a joke about taking down the us government. first of all, its a fucking joke. and second of all, even if i did have enough clout to acutally do it (which i do) that doesnt mean im going to actually. fucking do it.  
  
jailed for political uncrimes.  
  
i guess i should address the sexuality and gender shit questions ive been dealing with all my life.   
  
i am a man of god.  
  
honestly, ive been giving it a lot of thought on how to answer these questions and alligations and tbfh, i literally dont have an answer. ive slept with men and women and everyone in between (love my trans buds out there). ive dated men and women and everyone in between. i guess i dont really care what i label myself but maybe its along the lines of pansexual? or maybe bisexual? whats the difference? isnt that the discourse every couple months on tumblr and twitter. shit feels like a cycle.  
  
ace/aro discourse → bi/pan discourse → slur discourse → is it time to cancel david strider again discourse →   
  
a never ending cycle of being canceled on twitter for the things i say…. :(  
  
gender really shouldnt be a thing and im a strong advocate for getting rid of gender as a whole. maybe when i get old enough to run for president i might just actually do it if i win. because what the fuck is that shit for. gender dont matter. people setting fires to forests over gender reveals like this shit even fucking matters. get rid of the patriarchy or whatever white feminists be saying.   
  
i guess im comfortable in my gender identity and really cool with whatever pronouns people refer to me as. it doesnt really matter to me as long as im not being degraded for it. dont degrade me for not caring about gender im so sexy aha.  
  
i always think about how ive been on the forbes sexist man alive list every year since i started getting famous famous when i was 20. am i really that hot or do you guys just like my confidence and how many times ive showed up to red carpet events with the tits out. back in the day when i had my smoking hot bod and my nipple piercings and everyone thought i was the punk icon of the year for wearing a tight ass my chemical romance shirt and dark ass ripped ass jeans with a studded belt and knee high converse.   
  
how did no one take me out that day. it wouldve been an honor to society.  
  
how has no one taken me out yet like its so easy, i dont walk around with security guards unless im at a red carpet event. i walk the streets like the normies because i am one. you can catch me at your local mcdonalds on my tenth large fry watching tiktoks with the pods in. im kind of hard to miss. you can even check the r/dstrider reddit and find my favorite thread spot the dumbass where you literally just see me in random places doing god fucking knows what because half the time i cant even remember. theres a picture of me laughing with a wendys worker after handing him a dick bong and i still want to know what led to me giving him that. i dont just give out dick bongs all willy nilly. theyre sacred sbahhj artifacts.  
  
sbahhj is never going to die huh.  
  
sbahhj to me is like what old town road is to lil nas x, great dude. pretty fucking funny. love how everyone forget he was a stan before he started this music shit. but we all have a dark past. i will never let this shit go because it changed my life. also i worked stupidly hard on sbahhj and just got the rights back to it like three years ago. who told 18 year old me it was a good idea to sign off my creation to some men in suits. what the fuck was i thinking and why didnt anyone tell me that was just a bad move bro. took 13 fucking years to get this shit back.   
  
its fucking insane how corporate people can have the rights to a creation and make a shitton of money off of it while you get pennies.   
  
this chapter was supposed to be about rosalin wasnt it.  
  
to be fair, i dont take my meds before writing anything because my best ideas come from when i cant think straight to save my fucking life. i mean i guess i dont think straight because i like men ba dum tss, anyways. rosalin isnt my fucking girlfriend or my wife, im not her beard and she isnt mine. shes my best friend i met in middle school and tbh i consider her my other half, the pod to my juul, or my pea. whatever pods are relevant right now. wait are airpods still a joke? i love my pods like rest in peace to you broke bois but im different. i cant hear the discourse i got the pods on.  
  
rosalin and i met at a neighborhood block party. i guess my younger brother and her younger sister were friends long before i met rosalin. which still doesnt make sense to me because derrick claims he met roxanne online via rp forums and somehow her parents took the trip all the way down here from the middle of no where new york just for them to meet when they were like 10. and this was the age where people still thought that everyone on the internet was just a bot and not an actual living human being. while they were meeting for the first time, rping irl. i was too busy sitting on the sidewalk by my house with my sketchbook and my headphones in my ear connected to my cd player (listening to the legend herself, britney spears’ in the zone).  
  
the early 2000s really was a time.  
  
i was singing along to showdown (probably a little too loudly) when i see a girl around my age sit next to me with a big ass book in her hand. rosalin had these creepy purple eyes and bangs that went too far down her face and it was a miracle that she could see whatever ancient book she had. or see anything in that matter. she was giving me emo vibes but not emo because i didnt feel like she wanted to burn the ground down even though you could tell she had a few fall out boy and green day cds somewhere in that black purse she had slung over her shoulder. she didnt speak at first, flipping through her book or at least pretending to, but i knew she was looking at my sweet art. it was the early stages of sbahhj, doodling some sweet bro designs because i was still trying to figure that out what the fuck i wanted him to look like. he had to be ugly but not too ugly but ugly enough to be laughable. i had waited for showdown to be over before pulling my headphones out and looking over at her.   
  
what do you call love at first sight but not actual love but admiration.  
  
admiration at first sight.  
  
yeah thats it.  
  
rosalin said my drawings were ugly in a rather sophisticated and wordy way, way too advanced for a 13 year old and i knew right then and there that was my best friend for life. she got the humor of my comics, she laughed at the parts where you werent supposed to laugh at. she got my sense of humor and the six billion thoughts going through my head. she even read me some of her wizard fanfics after she realized i literally couldnt read a straight sentence without going off in a tangent to save my life.  
  
from there, we talked all the time. i racked up the phone bill talking to her over the landline we used to have until my nama got me a flip phone (and yes i still have flip phone selfies that ill post when i really hate myself one night). she even wrote a few fanfictions about me that somehow became one of her best selling novels. ill let you guys guess which one that is.  
  
we didnt meet again until i was 18 and graduated high school (thats a lie we went to each others proms, i wore a vampire tux and fangs to hers and she wore a ugly ass red ball gown dress to mine, but thats not relevant to this story). for my graduation gift, our parents paid for me, derrick, rosalin and roxanne to all go to la and spend a month there to get a taste of the real world. by that time, i had signed away the rights of sbahhj and was meeting all of the people i would be working with for the next decade. my director mentor and the god himself, ben stiller. i even met soulja boy which in my mind, still is in-fucking-sane since he was at the height of his career at the time. thats another picture that will eventually come out whenever i hate myself enough to put it out there.   
  
the thing with me and photos of myself from before i was famous is that i have a stupid image complex. i hated what i looked like before the fame because it wasnt me in my true form of a self indulgent, stupid fucking dumbass of a director bitch. i was just a normie, and thats fucking disgusting. im sure if you do enough searching and hack into a couple of databases you can find pictures of me from high school. and if you do. dont tag me in them, i really dont want to see them.   
  
saying that, everyone is going to try their hardest to find them and tag me in all their shitty edits of them like i didnt just set myself up for failure. you tell the internet not to do something, and what do they do? they do it. because they have no self control of anything.  
  
i dont blame em, i have no self control over anything in my life either.  
  
rosalin was my best friend at this point. we were attached by the hip. there is no me if she isnt around. i feel empty when she isnt by my side blah blah blah whatever sappy shit you people want to hear. cant i just leave it at shes my best friend and i would literally die if anything happened to her? why do i have to get so deep and personal and everyone has to hear every aspect of my fucking relationship with my best friend.   
  
she was there when i signed the deal, she was there when i gave my first script to ben stiller and he threw it in the trash. she was there when he picked it up from the trash a few moments later and had his assistant make copies of it because he wanted it to be a movie. she was there when i signed my second contract of a 6 movie deal of sbahhj. she was there the first time i had a nervous breakdown when i didnt know if i was doing the right thing, spending my time directing a movie, showing the whole fucking world outside of internet culture my creation ive held so dear to my dumbass heart. she was there when i threw up on ben stiller after eating too many mcchickens from mcdonalds during set breaks. she was there when i locked myself in my office after throwing up on my hero and having another breakdown. she was there when i wrote a formal apology to him and ended up never giving it to him because i realized he didnt give a fuck and i was wasting my time and doing rookie mistakes. she was there at the premier of the movie when i was too nervous to go on that red carpet until she literally dragged me by my tie onto it.  
  
thinking back to it, thats probably why everyone thinks shes a femdom and im her sub.  
  
what the fuck.  
  
rosalin has always been there for me. through thick and thin, through my bullshit and the millions of words i say to her a day. she was my right hand man even before this fame changed me into the asshole i am now.  
  
and i honestly dont think i can thank her enough even if i tried.  
  
i tried repaying her. i tried my fucking hardest. i even gave her books to publishers and editors for them to actual make it big. because i knew that was what she wanted despite her never saying it. it took a year for her book to be published, and three months for her to become new york times best selling author.   
  
but i would never take credit for that. it was all her. shes the one who made the dream happen.  
  
without her, there is no me.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
i got too sappy again didnt i.  
  
shit. i always do that when i think about people in my life who have a mostly positive affect. sure me and rosalin got into some fights over the years. and there was a nearly one year period we didnt talk because i got too big brained and arrogant and stupid and took her for granted. but were back to being friends. best friends. i was there when her daughter roxy was first born (and yes she broke my finger while giving birth, that rumor is true (also roxy isnt my daughter despite all the fucking rumors and gossip you people like to throw around, were literally just vibing)) (((but if anything happened to her… well… lets just say you better pray david strider doesnt find out…)))). i even ordained her wedding a few years ago (a ceremony that was an hour too long because i cant shut the fuck up). she married this super famous pakistani fashion designer, kanaya maryam. who is my personal stylist and doesnt let me out of the house in sweatpants anymore which is oppression in its highest form.  
  
i guess it is kind of weird that we named our kids after our siblings to some extent. even though they started it first but naming their twins rose and dave. which is still fucked up because i was supposed to be the only dave in the family, now i got competition with a 17 year old? thats fucked up.   
  
i never mentioned that derrick and roxanne got hitched, had twins then unhitched huh. i guess thatll be for the next time i dont take my meds and remember i actually have to do this to get out of doing interviews. 

  
  



	4. Puppetman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i thought this fucker was gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this man just needs to go to family therapy

my younger brother is a dumbass.  
  
for the longest time i really thought that was my title in the family because i made a career off my 15 year old 4chan humor but somehow, some fucking how. this man has me beat.  
  
no one told this man to throw out his degrees in engineering and japanese studies and start a fucking porn company because he couldnt stop making those creepy ass plush toys. no one. not a damn soul in this world. unlike me, he actually went to and finished college. and got two fucking degrees he doesn’t even use now because hes an independent creator and owns a multi-million dollar porn franchise. it only took him three years after he graduated to get his first million.  
  
whoever owns one of those plush toys, youre a fucking creep.  
  
he calls them smuppets, i call them an abomination to society and to the world. rosalin thinks theyre cute and owns a few and whenever i see them on her shelf in her office, i want to throw myself off the balcony.  
  
and theres nothing wrong with porn-. well. shit. theres a lot wrong with porn. it dehumanizes women and treats them like objects and puts out a false sense of womanhood and what sex is really like. blah blah blah male feminist david strider in the house. but no, theres nothing wrong with the porn industry. fuck, that’s not true either. theres a lot wrong with the porn industry too. they exploit and harm women. also fucking, porn men are bad men. and a lot of male pornstars look like carbon copies of each other. a lot of men in most industries look like carbon copies of each other. god said hold up lemme just breed the same brand of white guy over and over and hopefully no one notices.  
  
well look god, i noticed. and the next time i get a name wrong at an event im blaming you. i cant keep up with all these hollywood faces. im so famous to the point where i hardly know my own name i just know the work i have produced. and frankly i dont even remember half of that shit. maybe my meds and the stupid amount of drugs i have done over the course of my career. or maybe its just the fucking depression and stupid amounts of anxiety that eat away at my life everyday and every waking moment im not on some substance.  
  
dont be like me, substance abuse isn’t fun.  
  
speaking of fucking anxiety, its almost 6:12 am and that means karkat fucking vatans is about to drop another review pulverizing my ass into nothing but disgusting ass human slush. i hate how i pay attention to the haters, i feel like im letting drake down.  
  
the shittiest thing about this is how i still admire this guy despite him tearing my ass down every sunday morning just because he thinks that shits funny. or maybe he gets off to the fact that he knows hes one of the few people in this world to get a reaction out of me when they critique my work. the fucked up thing is that i KNOW this guy on a first name basis. weve met like a billion times and he still shits on my work. he was even one the panel for my fucking celebrity roast. and yes he was the one who made me cry afterwards that wasnt a rumor, that shit hurted fr.  
  
im not mad that he gets paid for it and im not mad that he has an active following that kisses the ground that he walks on. i am a little mad (just a LITTLE) that his highest patreon tier is like 1000 dollars to listen to him read his fucking reviews. and yes i pay for that tier despite his voice sounding like nails on a 1990s chalkboard and the fact that he chooses to yell every fucking word instead of using his inside voice. now that i think about it, i dont think i have never heard him not yell. maybe that’s just his thing, being loud and wrong about pretty much everything. his favorite genre of movies is fucking romcoms and shitty, and i mean SHITTY will smith movies from the early 2000s (no disrespect to the legend but he had more misses than hits in his early career). he fucking hates candy corn despite eating it all the time. he’s a big fan of fanfiction, holding the record for the most bookmarks and read fics on ao3, fanfiction dot net and fucking wattpad.  
  
he really is a teenaged girl trapped in a 30 something year old body.  
  
i dont even hate the guy which is the fucked up part about it. i dont hate him at all, if anything i want him to succeed. just not bash my shit anymore… even though he has helped me a lot in making my movies shittier and more for the internet and not for the common folk. i wont give him the satisfaction of knowing that.  
  
here i go, getting fucking side-tracked talking about a man i am madly in love with instead of my bitchass of a baby brother. it should be a record of how distracted i get in this novela or whatever the fuck this is. take a shot every time i go off topic and ramble about something that isnt the main focus of the chapter.  
  
am i even going to name these? probably not. probably so actually because if i dont terezi (my publicist) might kill me.  
  
i guess i have to write one of these about terezi and how she became my publicist on accident because i have no control over any part of my life.  
  
my brother got hitched at 19 and for some reason that has brought a sense of insecurity into my life for decades. its weird. i was like 23 at the time or 22 or something along those lines when he called me and told me he proposed to roxanne. and then i told rosalin because i tell her every aspect of my life and at this point she probably knows me more than i know myself and that should be terrifying but shes the other half of me, or me, but her. anyways.  
  
i thought this fucker was gay.  
  
sure he was my baby brother and i took care of him until the point in where he took care of me because he out grew me and everyone thought he was the older one despite me having like three years on him or something. i knew him until he didnt allow me to know him anymore. he was a quiet kid. not really social. talked to a few people irl but had roxanne in his back pocket at all times. he really was just a gentle giant. he liked knitting and sewing and honestly was a bigger nerd than myself. always at cons and cosplaying with his weird ass friends. liked? or still likes anime and other weeb shit. he had a phase of tip toeing into the gross anime nerd that didnt shower or respected women until roxanne whipped him into shape, which, i never thanked her for.  
  
she took care of my brother after he closed me out. after he got to high school and made his mark when he was a freshman and i was a senior, we sort of drifted away. despite being on the same varsity basketball team for that one year before i graduated because we were both freakishly tall, him taller because god just wanted me dead personally. it sort of...  
  
...i dont really know what happened now that i think about.  
  
one day i was driving him to school and the next he decided he wanted to drive with his other friends an hour early so they could watch anime in the computer lab before first period. which is really some nerd shit and im glad i was a jock who hated anime until i was in my twenties and learned it was nothing but pure genius and also because someone made one of comics into an anime and i still havent gotten over how fucking kickass it is.  
  
i guess he outgrew me.  
  
rosalin was my therapist before i could actually afford to get one. the moment i realized that my baby brother wasnt a baby anymore rocked my world into the next century. i was a ghost watching my brother avoid me in the hallways and only talk to me whenever he needed something at home which was like once every few weeks but then again i am a ghost in this situation and i dont think derrick believes in the supernatural outside of anime shit.  
  
it hurt me and i guess i never acknowledged how much it did until now? i lost my best friend to a bunch of fucking losers and a shift of interests. we used to play newgrounds games together and watch shitty youtube poops and ray william johnson. i know i should get over it because it was over 15 years ago but i feel like i missed the key turning points in his life because he pushed me away. i wasnt there to be a cool ass big bro and help him when he was figuring his shit out in high school and didnt know what to do. i guess roxanne took my place for his teen angst years. and i know its shitty for me to think this but i kind of wish she didnt.  
  
he got married at 20 in the summer of his junior year of college, getting a bachelor's degree in engineering and japanese studies. i helped pay for his wedding because at that time i had a decent amount of money and was able to give roxanne the wedding she wanted. i knew he was fine with going to the courthouse and going to applebees after but he was marrying a lalonde for fucks sake. her mother wouldve had his head on a stick if he tried to pull that shit.  
  
lalondes have always been wealthy. rosalin and roxanne always had money growing up, which made sense because roxanne was constantly down here when i was growing up. im pretty sure their mother was some famous author who made it big during the war times writing a bunch of porn of soldiers or some shit. i never read any of her books because i promised rosalin i wouldnt and i feel like if i broke that promise she would kill me. and i dont know about you but despite my substance abuse problem and how often i say i want to die on social media, i very much value my life and my legacy.  
  
his wedding was fucking, huge. jam packed full of a bunch of their college friends, my family, their family. some other people’s family. half of my fucking brother’s graduating class. i still don’t know why they invited so many fucking people. i guess thats what roxanne wanted. she always liked the attention and the fame from other people and it made sense when she got her nobel peace prize for her advancements of genetic therapy and how it saved so many lives or whatever the fuck. shes smart as shit, and she can talk circles about sciency shit to me any time, any place. but again. i am stupid as fuck and barley passed freshmen year physics because my teacher thought i had charm. to this day, i should have never graduated high school because of how little work i did. i wasnt stupid or anything, i knew what was going on in majority of my classes. i just didnt care because i believed that my webcomic would get big and people would love it and id be rich and famous like my fucking hollywood heros.  
  
i guess i lucked out in that department.  
  
it was a few hours before the ceremony. i was sitting in his dressing room trying to remember how to tie a tie because i never did it myself after i got famous, terezi always did it for me. despite her being blind and all, she still knew her way around a knot.  
  
i guess he was having a panic attack? his stupid ass pointy ass anime shades were off. thrown across the room somewhere, and he just sat there. looking numb. his eyes glazed over as he stared up at the ceiling. i was never one to be observant or really pick up on hints, but i could tell shit was going down.  
  
the fucked thing is that i tried to talk to him, and he would just tell me to shut the fuck up before i eventually had to leave the room in a dramatic, david strider fashion, and come back a bit later with an orange creamsicle and a laptop, the sound of one our favorite newgrounds games playing.  
  
ive never seen a man break down like that before.  
  
it sort of took me out how hard he cried. i guess i realized that my baby brother was still a baby, he just built up a wall so high because he was afraid of me realizing how vulnerable he really was. he didnt want me to think that he couldnt handle himself and thats why he pushed me away for so many years. he was tired of relying on me for shit so he became an independent he even pushed roxanne away for a few months until she forced herself back into his life after she realized what he was doing.  
  
it sucks. i missed a huge stepping stone of my brothers life because he was afraid of me.  
  
i dont know if i could ever get over that.  
  
he ended up marrying roxanne that day. the wedding was huge, it was long. too many people were giving toasts and i ended up leaving with rosalin and eventually coming back with her because we both realized it was shitty to leave our baby siblings wedding.  
  
derrick married his best friend, no one is surprised that was one of the worst decisions he made his in life.  
  
they were married for a good 5 or 6 years. ended up having two kids after they both got their masters. twins even, knowing their fucking luck. named them after me and rosalin. which is still fucked up because now you cant say dave at a family function. no im not jealous of a 16 year old, i was just here first, i AM superior strider. they were happily married too, or at least they looked like they were for a while. but they were best friends before they were lovers. and we could all tell she loved him more than he loved her, at least romantically.  
  
when you try to build a marriage off of the love of your best friend, going into it thinking you could fall in love with the person you never loved in the first place. you should have known it wouldnt end well.  
  
they got divorced right after roxanne got her phd. the day after (the only reason i remember that is because theres a video (that will never see the light of day) of me with a congratulatory cake walking into roxannes office to see her crying into her sisters arms). we all knew it was going to happen. derrick and dave spent more time at my place than the house they bought together. whenever i was with rosalin, she was on the phone with her sister, listening to her scream and cry about how unfair life was and how unhappy she was.  
  
it was really sad thinking back to it. they didnt talk for years after the divorce.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
theyre best friends now im pretty sure. they in the same city again and co-parent rose and dave. sometimes rosalin and i take them for the weekend so they can hang out with dirk and roxy and actually be a family. since theyre technically cousins if you dont think about it too hard. which i guess implies that dirk is my kid and thats a whole different can of worms i eventually have to get into.  
  
roxanne is dating someone i think? some famous history chick. and derrick is. derrick. i think hes seeing men again after convincing himself he wasnt into dudes for the longest time. we always knew. or at least i always knew.  
  
i guess i know a lot more than i give myself credit for.  
  
derrick and i are close again. not as close as when we were kids, but he talks to me more than once a week. i actually make an effort to see him whenever i come home. not that i dont call him. i do, i call him a lot more than i should, i know his ass his tired of me calling him in the middle of his fucked up puppet-shoots. i really dont give a fuck though because what the fuck. you have a masters in engineering and you devoted your life to your (successful) porn puppet business. nothing against porn. like i said earlier, porn is good if the women are being respected and blah blah blah. but god damn. at least make the puppets not as fucking ugly.  
  
i guess it isnt fair to kink shame.  
  
fuck that.  
  
if youre into smuppets stay far away from me that shit is weird as fuck. 


	5. Birthday boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ive always gotten some sort of depressed when my birthday was coming up because it reminds me of my own mortality and how i havent been the greatest when it comes to handling death and my own death might be the most tragic thing in the history of internet culture since i created so many fucking memes and the whole irony shit on the internet.

its my birthday.  
  
  
  
and i guess that means im another year older but technically dont we have birthdays every day we survive this bitch of a world since we are another day older than the day before or whatever high bullshit im trying to come up with.  
  
  
  
ive been off my fucking game lately and for the one reason that i was threatened another trip to celebrity rehab by a certain someone (terezi) if i dont take a tolerance break because its starting to fuck with my work. okay, so what i blacked out for a week and missed all my meetings and a childrens hospital visit. i was busy trying to not exist and remember that im gong to die one day and not be able to do the bullshit i do now.  
  
  
  
ive always gotten some sort of depressed when my birthday was coming up because it reminds me of my own mortality and how i havent been the greatest when it comes to handling death and my own death might be the most tragic thing in the history of internet culture since i created so many fucking memes and the whole irony shit on the internet.  
  
wow im off today.  
  
but i know i have to do this shit today and i know its probably going to be the worst chapter in the book because i really dont have shit to talk about and i have to talk about myself in a sober way which is cruel and unusual punishment to the highest degree. i feel like im locked up in the shittiest prison in the united states with no food nor water but instead of food its doritos and other shitty snack foods and instead of water its weed.  
  
oh did i mention she put me on a diet too.  
  
to be fair im not that mad about that one because i did eat mcdonalds 6 times in the span of 2 days and immedietly had to get my stomach pumped because what the fuck is in mcodnalds how the fuck did i almost die because i had 13 big macs. your food shouldnt be that bad and honestly im thinking about suing even though i know i will lose it would still be a funny thing to read on my wiki page.  
  
whoever keeps on making my shades slightly bigger on my wiki page profile, thank you.  
  
the first time i looked at my wiki page i was amazed by how fucking stupid i am and how someone took the time out of their day to write about my life. they got everything that has ever graced the internet including hyperlinks of my shit from newgrounds and 4chan. i wish there was some sort of reset button on internet history because having to be haunted about shit i did when i was like 12 really is some shit.  
  
i dont regret a damn thing ive done on the internet dont let anyone tell you elsewise. unless i get canceled, then i regret it.  
  
what if i get canceled today, as soon as im done working on this i check twitter and im fucking cancled for some shit i said when i was stupid as shit and 16 and stupid as shit. and god damn, am i a dumbass. i was thinking about some of the things i did in the past and sure it makes me seem like a comedic genius but i wonder how long i can convince myself that im a genius and not the dumb piece of shit everyone thinks i am.  
  
i think im having a rough time and have been having a rough time recently with the press and how ive been listening to them for once in my life. david strider, age 36 or 38 (really cant remember how old i am), finally gives into the dangers and nightmares of the fucking press. i just hate that some underpaid assholes have the right to just openly talk about me like im not a real person with feelings. just because i said that all cops should fucking die doesnt mean im problematic. thats one of the lesser problematic things ive said. if you were gonna cancel me at least cancel me for saying that i think men have the right to critique feminism.  
  
thats a joke ive never said that im not that fucking stupid.  
  
theres been a been a lot of things in the media about me lately and typically i ignore most of it but i guess i got TRIGGERED by some fucking assholes artical about me being publicaly single since the beginning of my career. which is somewhat true but then again dont be so fucking loud about it.   
  
ive tried to get into relationship, believe me, ive tried. but i think i just need some major therapy or a change in personalities because no one can stand me for longer than a few months. its not my fault that they cant handle the NEW TREND STYLE OF THE SUPERIOR STRIDER. my brother is probably going to fight me on that one but i really dont care.  
  
the thing about me and relationships is that i really havent been in one since i was in high school. and even that didnt really count because if you count high school relationships as actual relationships once youre past 25, you really are on some shit and need to go to therapy. it was some girl. i cant even remember her name. only dated her because it looked good that a star basketball player was dating one of the prettier girls at our school. i didnt even have sex with her because i was dealing with shit on my own and perfecting my craft.  
  
looking back at it, what the fuck was i on. turning down some pussy to write webcomics, what the fuck.  
  
anyways, i guess i was also battling a sexuality crisis too and i couldnt figure out if i was gay or not and why i stare at the baseballs guys asses so much but in my defense everyone stared at their asses, its baseball for fucks sake.  
  
i guess football players have nice asses too and maybe wrestlers but thats about it. soccer players have the flattest asses right after basketball players. i had negative ass in high school. it was fucking, slopped in like some math formula. the slope is y= mx+ negative ass.   
  
that joke could be better. i literally cant think of anything funny right now.  
  
i guess the thing with me and dating and probably the problem with everyone in fucking hollywood is how hard it is to date someone else in hollywood. pretentious rich people with other pretentious rich people equals a year in couples therapy trying to fix shit that was never put together in the first place. i dont want to date someone who is as fucked up as i am so no comedians because were all depressed, no actors because they all have some sort of fucked up god complex. no fucking singers because what the fuck is that im not about to travel the world with you because of your shit.  
  
i guess everyone does travel in hollywood and i dont really know if i want someone to be at my side all the time because that seems like a fucking nightmare what the fuck im literally the fucking worst. IIII even get tired of myself.  
  
maybe i just want someone normal, with a somewhat normal job that allows them to say in an area for long periods of time. someone who doesnt freak over the fact that im a damn near a-list celebrity. someone who can look past my asshory and my bullshit and accept me for who i am and encourage me to not smoke a blunt right before a press conference and fall asleep in the middle of it. in my defense, i havent slept that day so i really did set myself up for fucking disaster.  
  
but thats really besides the point. i dont even really care about looks or what gender identity they identify as. i guess someone my age would be cool. or maybe ill step into milf territory and date some divorced milves who just want to be spoiled because their bitchass ex-husbands only send enough child support money for their actual child and not their shoe collection allowance.   
  
milves are great.  
  
or dilves too. gay or bi divorced dilves.  
  
i dont know anything anymore.  
  
i guess im just tired of hooking up with random crew sets and not having the same person in my bed for longer than a week. this hoeing in my 30s shit really is childish and i know were all getting tired of seeing me beside someone knew every week. maybe ill give those tmz assholes a fucking break for once so they can start copying and pasting shit like they do for everyone else.   
  
i feel like the plot of 40 year old virgin but more shitty because no one can match steve carells acting and how fucking awesome he is at being awkward and not knowing shit. say what you want and call me white washed, idc, the office is fucking funny. ill give the white people that one.  
  
i have to create a media that appeals to white people, like the regular ol white people who think friends is the best show ever and go to trader joes on a thursday afternoon because they dont want to cook dinner after a yoga session. maybe that is what it takes for people to stop trying to cancel me every two minutes.  
  
im deflecting as my therapist would say. or rose. or literally anyone close enough to realize my bullshit.  
  
i guess i can admit here that i do have somewhat of a little crush on someone since this book isnt coming out for another couple months. and by then ill probably either be dead, in hiding or dating someone. probably all three at once. karkat, that fucker who is obsessed with me enough to write think pieces about me and my movies and my comics. he fits the criteria of being somewhat of a normal since people really know him in online spaces outside of him being a famous movie critique. not that im making excuses for him. its not like i like the guy. we went on a few dates and i had a good time and he isnt loud and shouty like he is online. hes a bigger fucking softy and really likes romcoms. even made me watch one when we went back to his place after out last date. fucking, who knew that _ hitch _ still lived up to the hype today.   
  
will smith will always be fine and i hope i can be on that level.  
  
maybe i can get on that level if i stopped doing so many fucking drugs and drank more than an ounce of water a day and actually did my skin care routine.  
  
anyways.  
  
i have a fucking crush on karkat vantas and its stupid as fuck. 


End file.
